


Snow White

by BetsyByron



Series: Collected wee fics [1]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Love, M/M, Suicide, can't live without you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:59:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow White

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me in a sudden and violent flash of inspiration, and I wrote it in one nerve-racking go.  
> I made myself cry.
> 
> Visual inspirations: Cloud Atlas, A Single Man
> 
> Soundtrack: Skyfall by Adele (there might be something less obvious, but.)

Snow had never looked so white. 

The wide expanse, smooth, untouched but for one trail of footsteps and the angel fallen at the end of it, arms spread at his sides, head titled back slightly as if to look up to the skies from which he had been kicked out. 

Black had never looked so dark. 

Nesting his face in damp curls, outlining the pale cheeks, the phantom of a smile, the serenity of the features. He was at peace, he was happy, he was joining him. 

Blood had never looked so red. 

A crown around his head, a bright and violent gush, still resounding with the loud bang of the gunshot. 

It was okay. 

Better an hypothetical afterlife. Better even the void than the rest of his life without James. 

James was dead. This time there was no doubt about it; he had breathed his last breath into Q's earpiece, whispering that he loved him. 

Always, and forever. 

Q had shut down communications like at the end of any mission. Q had finished his day of work. Q had set his affairs in order. Q had gone home, ran his fingers over every item James had left there, filled himself with his lover's scent. Q had not slept. 

At dawn, he had taken the gun out of the bedside table drawer, the gun James had put there for him in case the flat was compromised and his life was threatened. 

He probably hadn't meant it to ever be used like this. But he probably hadn’t meant to ever leave Q alone with the sound of his heart breaking. 

He walked into the freshly fallen snow in the yard. James had first kissed him here, chasing him after work one night. He had told him he was too easy to follow; and too easy to fall in love with. And he had run a hand softly on his cheek. 

With skin as white as snow.

And he had buried his hand in his hair - oh the way he tangled his fingers into the messy curls, the way he gripped and pulled when they were having sex, the way he stroked and kissed when they were resting against each other. 

With hair as black as ebony.

And he had kissed his lips. The lips that directed him through every mission, to the last. The lips that wrapped around his cock and nipped at his tongue. The lips that whispered I love you when he thought he was asleep. The lips between which he had slid the barrel before he pulled the trigger.

Lips as red as blood.


End file.
